


Blood Donation

by Sammyamirite



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Blood Donation, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV First Person, Recovery, Short One Shot, self-harm scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 02:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammyamirite/pseuds/Sammyamirite
Summary: Y/N goes to get her blood donated at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. Dr. Andrew DeLuca has the pleasure of drawing her blood.Sway Office version:https://sway.office.com/KqO8IBFa3659Fx2X





	Blood Donation

**Author's Note:**

> If you missed it in the tags, minor trigger warning for referenced self-harm/scars. Enjoy this short one-shot. I might continue it and add another part if anyone would like that. 
> 
> Always keep fighting. 
> 
> International Suicide hotlines:  
> http://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines

“Hi, I’m Dr. DeLuca,” the handsome man greeted with a large smile. He stood, towering over me in the chair. 

“Hi, Y/N,” I told him, knowing full well that he knew my name from the chart I had to fill out before this. 

“Okay, Y/N, can you roll up your sleeve, please?” He asked me, checking he had everything he needed on the cart beside him. I nodded and rolled up the left sleeve just above my elbow. I watched his reaction as my scarred skin was revealed to him. Surprise, but then quickly back to that huge smile to pretend he wasn’t bothered by it. Bracelets hung on my wrist, covering a bit, but there was no way I’d be able to cover my entire forearm; especially while getting my blood drawn to be donated. 

He investigated the vein on the inside of my elbow for a moment before he tapped it a couple times. He noticed me clenching and unclenching my fist to get more blood flow to my arm; generally making my veins more accessible, “Not your first rodeo?” He asked. 

“Nope. Between many blood draws for doctors—which are always clean, my doctors are just idiots,” we shared a laugh, “--and the donations, you’d think my veins would be shot by now. Surprisingly, they’re holding on.” He nodded. 

“Why do the donations if you know it risks making your veins worse?” He asked me, wiping the area with a sanitary towelette. 

“I want to help people,” I replied simply. He nodded, pleased with my answer, but seemed to be thinking for a moment. 

“Are you so busy helping other people that you forget about yourself?” He asked me, his voice dropping. He was referring to the self-harm. I looked away, pausing, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push.” 

“No, it’s okay. I think you’re somewhat right. I guess I do tend to put other people before me,” I told him honestly, thinking about it for a short second. He was a doctor, of course he didn’t really understand. 

“I used to do that too,” he told me, hesitant. 

I turned away as he sunk the needle into my skin, before I turned back to him, “How’d you stop?” I asked, hoping he’d let me in on it. It was my turn to be pushy. 

He attached the vial to the needle before answering me, “I went inpatient. My mom found out and yelled at me--in Italian too, of course. So that was even better,” I gave a small laugh, “She didn’t understand, so she took me to the hospital; told them I was suicidal. It wasn’t far from the truth at that point, so I just went with it. Spent a month or so in there until I was released. There’s been some slip ups, of course, but I’ve pretty much been clean since then.” 

I looked at him for a long second, before watching the blood enter the previously clear vial, “I’m glad you’re doing better. No one should have to go through self-harm,” I told him as he replaced the vial with another one. He nodded, silence falling around us for a minute or two. 

“You know, ‘no one’ includes you,” he said, looking straight into my eyes. I smiled at him before averting my eyes to hide the fact that they were watering just a bit. 

“Thank you,” I said, looking back at him once the excess water in my eyes had dried. He looked back at me, smiling. The many smiles were proof that he really was better, and I envied that. I returned the smile, and I watched as his eyes shined a bit more. It made him happy to know that he helped me, and I was grateful. 

He laughed a bit, taking the tube and the needle out before holding some cotton over the wound, “You know, I’m not one to be shy, but something about you...” He trailed off. 

I licked my lips, laughing before meeting his gaze again, “Do you want to get a drink sometime?” I asked. His smile never left as he gave a small nod before agreeing. He kept his hand on my arm; holding our gaze.

**Author's Note:**

> I’d really appreciate it if you checked out my Instagram! @praytocas


End file.
